


Bobby Diehl Came To Town, Riding On A Pony, Stuck A Feather In His Cap . . .

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:30:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22717528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A smiling, winsome stranger comes to town to help out at the Mansion, and confusion ensues.  Wait, confusion ensues?  How is that different from the USUAL state of things at the Mansion??
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Bobby Diehl Came To Town, Riding On A Pony, Stuck A Feather In His Cap . . .

Bobby Diehl came to town, riding on a pony. 

Well, no, not exactly, but it DOES have a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Almost musical, in a way. 

And from everything that happened, you'd surely think there MUST have been a pony somewhere! There were steaming piles of, uh, 'evidence' of that!

In actuality, although Bobby Diehl DID have a small green feather tucked into the rim of his military cap, there was no pony involved, at least not in transport. He appeared to have hitched a ride with a passing troop of soldiers before presenting himself at the Mansion for detached duty in helping Sergeant Major Rawlins with the backlog of paperwork.

But in any case, Bobby Diehl came to town, and charmed practically everyone he met. Even Sergeant Major Rawlins had only good things to say about the sweet-faced and always smiling lad, even while bemoaning some of the trouble he inadvertently caused. 

"Naught like 'e means any 'arm, you know, Lieutenant. Just too innocent, too good for 'is own good, if you know w'at I mean, along with being too curious. Don't think 'e truly understand w'at 'e's saying, 'alf the time, least not that it might cause words or 'ard feelings, you know."

Well, yes, Garrison did know what the Sergeant Major meant. He'd heard Casino teasing their small Englishman, "now HE'S the real deal, Limey, no con about it! You just might have yourself some competition! Hell, no doubt about it! That act of yours may be fine and dandy, but when the real thing is standing right along side? It don't play half as good, ya know?"

Well, Garrison had to say, the safecracker had a point. Hapless naivete, wide-eyed innocence, a certain childlike and mischievous air - all the things their pickpocket could display whenever he felt the need, this newcomer had in abundance all the time. 

But was it the real deal? Could anyone really be that totally - well, he hated to use the word clueless, but it was one of those that popped into his mind. Goniff wasn't any of that, not really, but had managed to fool him, fool all of them for awhile - to some extent anyway, and perhaps Garrison more than anyone. 

{"Yes,"} shaking his head in bewilderment over the experience that was Bobby Diehl, {"maybe that IS the right word."}

Bobby Diehl had the curiosity of a cat, the friendliness of a puppy, a voice as melodious as any lark. 

Bobby Diehl had a sweetness of expression, a willingness to like everyone, to befriend everyone, that couldn't help but please.

Bobby Diehl was ever-helpful, ever ready to do whatever he was asked, and often, to do what he thought you might like him to do, whether asked or not.

Of course, Bobby Diehl also had no filters, let words drop from his lips as if they would have no repercussions. They did, of course, but he was as shocked and upset as anyone when that happened, when trouble or confusion resulted. He'd MEANT no harm, would never have intentionally caused any trouble or grief! Not to anyone! No, of course not!

He'd only been complimenting Goniff on the fine collection of trinkets he'd collected, "and I thought that green and gold pin with all the curlicues was really pretty. Is it for your girl? I bet she'll really like it. Who's all the rest of it for? You sure have some pretty things! Do you have lots and lots of girls, that you have so many pretty things they'd like?"

Now, that had been a real conversation stopper, dropped at the Common Room table like it was. If they'd been alone, Goniff would have assured the guys that he'd played fair, always saw a balancing piece was put in the shared pile, which was only the plain truth. Well, they all had their own collection of prize pieces, and they pretty much all played fair with the sharing. That would have been okay, even if it would have left unanswered how Bobby KNEW about Goniff's private stash, what to do about the man knowing far more than he should.

But they HADN'T been alone; Garrison and the Sergeant Major had been at the side table, enjoying a game of checkers.

The slow turning of the officer and the non-com toward the wide-eyed pickpocket and his silently-groaning team mates didn't slow the oblivious Bobby down one little bit.

"I guess that room isn't off limits like the rest of the place is, and that little sliding door that you almost can't even see unless you know it's there??! Wow! That's really neat, that Lieutenant Garrison let you do that - it's like a little nest or something! I've never seen anything as cozy as you have it fixed up, with the pillow and blankets and that little chest with your prizes in it. Do the rest of the guys have their own little place like that too?"

Well, that didn't help matters, and the demand from Garrison had a sullen-mouthed Goniff reluctantly trailing behind a bewildered but acquiescent Bobby Diehl and a stern-faced Craig Garrison over to a place in the paneling that Garrison had never noticed before.

The sight of that lovely little stash, only eight pieces, but items the pickpocket prized greatly, disappearing into Garrison's pocket had Goniff struggling to keep a snarl off his face. There was no way he could go with innocence, and he had to admit, Bobby's innocent face could outdo his by a long shot.

"Thing is, 'ow do we keep 'im from poking into things, then shooting off 'is ruddy mouth? Ain't like 'e really means anything by it, you know. Just curious as a ruddy cat, and says w'atever comes to mind, never mind who might be listening," he'd complained to the others after that blistering setdown from Garrison. He'd considered giving Bobby a good thump alongside the head, but those trembling lips, those woefully-apologetic eyes wouldn't let him to it.

"Well, for one thing, we don't visit any 'stash' we might have here, not to add or remove anything, not even to inventory the contents, not while he is anywhere around," Actor directed. "We don't lead him to anything or anyplace we don't want to be freely known. And we need to be extremely careful what we say and do around him. I agree, it is not as if he is meaning any harm, but as you say, he's like a child who says whatever comes to his mind."

Casino was torn. Yeah, it had been funny in a way, watching Goniff's face tumble as his 'sparklies' were confiscated, but he knew it could just as easily have been his own little bundle, and he had a couple of real nice pieces he'd have hated to lose.

Well, it wasn't his bundle of 'trade goods' that fell victim to Bobby's naive curiosity, but his stash of 'reading material', or at least two of the entries. 

It had been Bobby who'd gone exploring, once again, and not really understanding what he was seeing, did what he later explained was what his mother had always told him to do in such circumstances - he asked a reliable source for an explanation, for guidance. 

That his mother had taught him one of the most reliable sources was their minister? Well, that was perhaps unfortunate, since Bobby presented the articles in question to Reverend Standish in the presence of the reverend's sister, Miss Rebecka Standish. 

It was a grim and red-faced Craig Garrison who slapped the two magazines down in front of Casino. "Find a better spot for these things, Casino! I don't want to go through that again!"

Hearing about the highly-uncomfortable interview with the Reverend Standish, Casino had been bug-eyed and disbelieving.

"He showed them to the Reverend? AND the Reverend's sister??! Asked why 'those people aren't wearing any clothes? Aren't they getting cold?" He asked what they were doing??! Sheesh! How dumb can that guy get??!"

"Obviously, more even than we gave him credit for," Actor confirmed, wincing a little at the scene that had been described by the fuming Garrison. 

It hadn't helped when Major Richards was in the room when Bobby decided to ask for more details about "when you took that umbrella from the museum, Actor, and that guy got so upset? Why was he so upset about an umbrella, even if it was a 'Chamberlain', whatever that is? Why would you take an umbrella? There's already some in that big brass can in the hall downstairs. Did you forget? Was it raining when you left the museum that night?"

Actor smoothed things over with a gracious smile, "a practice mission, Major, in preparation for that little job with the microfilm, you see. No harm done, the umbrella got back safely, of course."

Garrison had confirmed that, though with a hard look of frustration at the necessity.

Sergeant Major watched in utter bemusement; that innocent lad had uncovered more mischief in the week he'd been here than he and the lieutenant had in - well, who knows how long! Still, there was more than a little amusement in it all, the four cons getting caught out by some innocent remark or action on the newcomer's part, the looks of dismay and chagrin or embarrassment on their faces.

Laying in bed that night, Gil Rawlins chuckled over some of the things brought into the open, the expressions on Bobby's face, on Garrison's - on the guys - though cringing at what that scene must have been like at the Parsonage.

Then, his smile dimmed, and a slight frown grew as he started to feel an uncomfortable familiarity. 

"Nah, never met the lad before 'e arrived to give me a 'and in the office. Don't know I ever DID meet such a one for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time! Still, I'll feel better once we get caught up and can send 'im back; don't know's we need the fuss."

He rolled over and went to sleep, but the thoughts came back in the morning, especially when Bobby remarked, "it's really nice of that Miss O'Donnell to bring you special treats like this, Goniff. And it's really nice for you to share. And she didn't seem TOO upset, not really MAD, you know, which I thought was real nice of her, being my mom always said that's just not something you DO."

Bobby eagerly bit into a currant scone and sighed with pleasure.

"Didn't seem upset about w'at exactly?" Gil Rawlins asked, something itching at the back of his mind.

"Why, with Goniff pulling her over like that, making her drop the basket, and kissing her and all, right on the lips and everything! Didn't let her go for ever so long, too. And she didn't even slap his face or anything, for getting fresh like that, just thumped him on his shoulder with the back of her hand kinda sharp-like. She probably just didn't want to make a fuss and get him in trouble, and that was really nice of her, I thought!"

Goniff blushed, the guys laughed and started teasing him, and that's when Gil saw it, that flicker of confusion, even disappointment in Bobby's eyes. THAT'S when he realized who Bobby reminded him of - not in all ways, but in some.

Crumpling his napkin, the non-com nodded, "well, she's a amiable sort of a lass, puts up with a lot of his nonsense when others might not. Course, she knows 'e'll not make any more of it than just a stray kiss now and again; otherwise she WOULD be kicking up a fuss. Not one for such larks, you know, not Miss O'Donnell. She'd put him in his place right smart if he tried to go any further, or maybe get the lieutenant to do that little thing."

That got him some odd looks, including from Garrison, who was just finishing his last sip of coffee. Gil nodded at the officer, made his request to Garrison, then gave his orders to the others.

"Lieutenant, if you 'ave a moment, need to go over some things from that last report, if you don't mind? In the meanwhile, Bobby, you run along with the others and take a turn on the firing range; you might enjoy that. Actor, you and the others take good care of 'im, and bring 'im back to me AFTER you've all done the full 'our. Don't expect to see 'im or you before then! 'E deserves a bit of an outing, as 'ard as 'e's been working."

Gil watched as Actor and the others obediently gathered up the slightly-reluctant Bobby Diehl and headed off, then made his way to Garrison's office, the officer right along side. The door safely closed and locked, the Sergeant Major pondered on how to explain all of this.

"Okay, Gil. What is it? That bit about Goniff and Meghada, that was as off target as anything I've heard recently. What's up?"

Gil Rawlins hesitated, then asked, "Lieutenant, do you remember that little rotter w'at stayed in the village for awhile? Ralphie Wray? And that Steve Whitaker bloke, as well?"

Garrison shuddered, "how could I forget Ralphie? Or Steve Whitaker! But what . . ."

Then an incredulous look came over Garrison's face, then an awakening, and a low groan.

"Whitaker, who was an older, smarter, much more effective version of Ralphie. Set on causing trouble, but never looking like it was his fault. One who knew how to use charm and that innocent look to the best advantage. And now here's Bobby Diehl, smoother even than those two, much smoother. But WHY? What's his purpose, Gil?"

Rawlins slowly shook his head. "Now as to that, I 'aven't a clue, Lieutenant. Maybe just for 'is own amusement, per'aps something deeper. But 'e IS enjoying it; don't know why I didn't see it earlier. Should 'ave; not like we don't 'ave experience with all that 'innocent' look and those ever so disarming smiles. But I DIDN'T see it, not with 'im, not til just now.

"But there, at the table, w'en we didn't get all upset with that bit about Goniff laying a kiss on the O'Donnell lass? Right disappointed 'e was; 'id it right well, but disappointed 'e was, no doubt. 'e WANTED it to cause trouble."

And in the attic, a small Sprite named Lily let out a sigh of relief. SHE had no ability to counter what that mischief-maker was doing, but if they'd figured it out themselves, maybe that would be enough.

Robin Goodfellow, or Puck, as he was sometimes known, was far and away more powerful than she was, had given her the warn-off when he'd first stepped in the house. Why, he could snuff out her very existence with just a snap of his fingers if she, a mere sprite, opposed him and he took offense. 

He'd taken no heed of her protests, not even her telling him they had friends, those below, one especially, who wouldn't take it well, his trifling with them. But Robin was in no frame of mind to listen to one small female sprite, just pointed his finger and told her most sternly, "not one word more!"

All she could do was sit and watch and fret, wondering more and more whether she should alert the not-a-Daughter-of-Eve down at that Cottage. But even that would get her on the wrong side of the one sometimes known as a demon, or devil, or pooka, or whatever the Sons of Adam chose to call him this time around. He'd been around far and away long enough to collect any number of names.

But now, they knew, well, at least part - what he was doing, if not who he truly was. Maybe that would be enough; it often was with the Old One. Sometimes discovery of his mischief was enough to make him go look for somewhere else to play his games.

In the meanwhile, a smiling redhead made her way to the kitchen door just in time to see the men returning from their turn on the firing range, Garrison waiting for them, a grim look on his face for them, and a quiet word for her, well, a short few ones anyway - "We're headed out again, tonight. And there's trouble . . ."

She nodded, "Aye, so I noticed earlier. I'll need a word with your new one, alone, ei?", and then smiled at the men streaming in the door. 

"Hello, lads. A good round had ye, then? Lieutenant, I've returned for my basket, and to beg the indulgence of an escort home. Tis getting late, and with the oncoming storm, the road overly-dark."

Goniff nodded eagerly, "I'll see her home, Lieutenant," but Garrison shook his head.

"No, not you, Goniff. I need all of you for a debriefing now. Bobby, see the lady back to her Cottage, then get right back here. It's not far, but we don't want her heading out alone."

Goniff had a puzzled frown on his face, and the beginning of a disgruntled pout, but Bobby Diehl was more than delighted to be of help, of course.

And they left together, the amiable, sweetly-charming young man with the innocent look in his eyes, and the serenely-smiling redhead, her chattering away in a manner not quite like the one she was known for.

"Tis good of you to escort me, Bobby Diehl, for there is no telling what mischief a person might encounter, even going about their own business, now is there? Why, all kinds of mishap - a twisted ankle being the least of it. One might even encounter a hob, or one of the Fair Folk thinking to get in a bit of amusement. Why, one might even meet one of the Old Ones with their sly and cunning ways, maybe Robin Goodfellow himself. 

"Have you never heard the stories, Bobby Diehl? Ah, many I could tell you, ones from my Ma and hers and hers and hers even before. Some of those stories older than the land we travel, ev'n. Tis said one of my many, many times greats, an aunt I believe, had herself a chance meeting with Robin Goodfellow; a surprisingly amiable one, to all accounts, which is not often the case. 

"Of course, the story is quite old, and most have probably forgetten the particulars. However, our collective memory is most capable, and I am sure the Old One himself would remember, if he were reminded. 

"Shall I recount it to you, Bobby Diehl, about a meeting after a mishap, a battle the two of them shared against an evil one thinking to close away the Summerlands from the innocents seeking their final refuge there. And later comfort shared, with good will being promised on both sides for all times to come? Tis a most heartening story, to be sure."

What else was said on that short trip down the road, who knows, or if they did, were willing to tell. Needless to say, there was some meeting of the minds. Not that they were both equally pleased with that, but still . . .

She was shocked and frightened when he found his way to the attic, stood there glowering at her, his arms folded over his chest.

"You told, Lily!" he scolded her, his voice no longer gentle and innocent, but harsh like none of those below had ever heard it, the far off sound of thunder in his tone, lightning flashing in his eyes. 

"SHE came today, and the look in her eye, her words - I could tell, even before she said it - she knew me for who I am. How would she have known otherwise, had you not open your lips to tell all? How would she have dared to tell that tale, think to remind me of that bargain, otherwise?"

"Nae, Great One, I did not tell!" she protested, wringing her hands. "She has her own ways; you know what she is - you must remember her kind! She would KNOW; they are her's, each of them below, in some fashion or other, especially the one you saw kiss her! She would KNOW, once she came within these walls, if one of the Old Ones was playing with them! I would not have dared betray you!"

Then her chin came up and she looked at him defiantly. "Though I WANTED to! They are sweet boys, they are, Robin. They have not tried to drive me away, have let me stay, let me cease my endless lonely wandering. They leave me things, sometimes, almost all the time now - a thimble full of wine, sometimes pieces of their sweets, and such."

He looked at her, twisting his head to one side, with doubt written clear on his face. 

"They leave things for you, do they? For YOU, or because they forget to put things away properly?"

Lily firmed her lips. "Aye, to begin with, I thought it might be that they simply forgot. But how does wine or spirits get into a silver thimble by mistake, night after night after night, or be left on the same ledge each time? How do bits of sweet treats and bits of dried fruit end up in that split walnut shell on that same ledge? And, truly, Robin, food and drink are too precious here, too scarce, for even a crumb or a drop to be forgotten or overlooked."

She decided not to tell that it was only the two who left such things, at least in the beginning, the small blond one first, and then the youngest as well; it just seemed best that way. Well, after all, now it WAS all of them, and not just the four called 'the team', but ALL of them!

"And they speak kind words when they leave things, Robin. Sometimes, it's only a single word, like 'enjoy', or sometimes more, like 'my 'Gaida, she did a right good job with that biscuit; don't want to be selfish with it.' The one they call the Lieutenant, he always looks around like he does not want anyone to see - HE says almost the same thing each time, "this is from me and my grandmother, though I must be out of my mind!" And the Sergeant Major, he tells me that his 'mum' used to do the same thing, leave things for the Little Folk; says it makes him smile and think of her every time."

She giggled, "once, that very first time the youngest one left anything, he looked around and said "well, enjoy it! But don't say anything, okay? If you ever tell Casino I did this, he'll never let me live it down, not after all the grief we give Goniff!" They each pretend they DON'T leave the offerings, Robin, except for Goniff. He was the first, you see, what with his lady, the one who knows you, explaining such things were only polite. They teased him, the others, when they caught him at it, but he kept on, and now, they ALL leave me things."

Her face grew sad, wistful, and she looked up at him, standing there listening, his face so stern, doubting.

"It's like it was before, Robin, when we could find those who welcomed us, those we could help too, in places we could BELONG, when our own homes were gone."

And Robin Goodfellow, mischief maker at large, shook his head in resignation. 

"Now you've just gone and ruined it all, Lily! You and HER! And I was having SUCH fun! There hasn't even been any blood spilt yet! Well, not much. Oh, very well, I'll be off and you can get back to cosseting your 'sweet boys'. Hmmmmmph! Females and their foolish sentimentality!"

Though there was just a hint of an amused smile on his ancient, far-too-knowing and sly face, as he turned to go. He turned as he reached the door, hesitated, and turned to face the small sprite.

"Lily? If it changes, if they treat you not well, seek to do you harm? You will call my name and I will come. You WILL DO that, no question, no argument, you hear my words?"

And her eyes grew large at the favor he was showing her with that implied promise.

"Yes, My Lord."

And he turned and left. While it was his duty to keep an eye on her and the others, it was something he preferred not to be caught at, feeling it interferred with his dignity, such that he had. Turns out he HADN'T really needed to come to check up on sweet Lily after all, though; she'd done just fine without him looking over her shoulder. 

{"Well, thanks to her 'sweet boys', and that infernal female who so gently reminded me of that long ago time. Very much like her long-ago aunt, she is. Probably as much a fierce combination of contradictions as that annoying female was, too. Hope those 'sweet boys' know what they might be in for!"} and he chuckled as he made his way down the stairs and went to bid his farewell to that beleagured Sergeant Major who tried to keep things running smoothly around this place. 

He tried to find some remorse for the confusion he'd managed to cause in the masses of paper they had in those secure areas, but mischief was just too much a part of him for that to take hold. 

{"Ah, well, straightening it all out will give him something to occupy his mind instead of worrying about those 'sweet boys' when they're out and about. 'Sweet boys!' Hmmmmph! Might as well be gone from here before some foolish one starts calling ME that! Be about as true, I imagine!"}

The phone rang and Gil Rawlins answered it, distracted by trying to get things back in order from the mess they'd somehow gotten in. The Map Room alone was a disaster. Once so precisely organized by country, area, city - now he was trying to separate Madrid from Munich and Montrouge and far more, and he was only halfway through the alphabet!

"I'm so sorry to have left you in the lurch like that, Sergeant Major. You must have thought we'd decided against accommodating your request for assistance. We did have a likely man picked out, name of Robert Diehl, an older man, an experienced file clerk, sent him on his way to you, but he met with an accident. Slipped in the street and has been laid up in a clinic in some small village along the way for the past week and more with a concussion and a broken ankle. We only learned of it this morning; it appears his identification had been lost or stolen, and no one discovered who he was, who they should notify until he roused up last evening. Once he's up and about again, we'll send him your way, you have my word. There's really no one else available, unfortunately."

Gil Rawlins stared at the phone for a long time. Way too much of a coincidence - no, nothing like a coincidence. Just what it WAS like, he just didn't know. Any more than he knew where their Bobby Diehl disappeared to, so sudden like, just with a fast "be needing to go elsewhere, Sergeant Major. Best of luck to you," and then he was out the door and gone, like he'd never been there at all.

Now, the non-com started to pour out a glass from the pint of beer he'd gotten at the pub, and hesitated. Then, with a rueful half-smile, he made his way to that ledge that held the thimble and half-walnut shell. 

"The men are off and away, and I can't see my way clear to opening a bottle of the wine from below, not just for you and me, especially with me not fancying wine all that much and not wanting the waste. But per'aps this might suit your fancy." 

And he carefully filled the thimble with beer, leaving just a speck of foam on top, before he poured the slivers of salted nuts into the walnut shell. 

And, watching from the rafters, Lily clapped her hands with glee. Yes, she truly DID like it here, in this place with all her sweet boys!

**Author's Note:**

> Note: References stories - 'Not All Battles Are Fought With Bullets'; 'Family'


End file.
